


dim the lights and fall into you

by just_peachyy



Category: Gintama
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, the working title for this was 'trust issues'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 15:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17247137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_peachyy/pseuds/just_peachyy
Summary: Edo is paralyzed by a heatwave. There's the explosion at the docks and a dead tsujigiri in the wreckage.





	dim the lights and fall into you

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Last fic of this year, we made it! Post Benizakura arc because I'm rewatching and I am down with a cold and also a case of the Feelings. Happy New Year!
> 
> ** edit: inspired in part by a part of a fantastic dj by takeru mikami! It's called Hello! Mr Stupid!!
> 
> *title from pink matter by Frank ocean. I love Frank ocean, if you couldnt tell already.

All of Edo is paralyzed by a heatwave. Hijikata stalks around his patrols, his cravat damp from sweat and humidity, his cigarette turned into a gnawed pulp between his lips. Now more than ever, he hates the stifling uniforms. Okita walks around in his shirt and waistcoat, and half the men don't even wear the jackets even after Hijikata has snarled at them. Kondou walks around half naked most of the time which isn't very unusual, and he hogs the fans for his room, which Hijikata understands because it is in the east, and gets the most sun. Hijikata even caught Yamazaki typing his reports with a bag of frozen peas strapped to the back of his neck. It's been a strange week. The world feels skewed and slanted in this heat, and it has been bothering Hijikata for a while - or perhaps, his thoughts have been feeding into this cycle. 

He wishes he could take a day off or two to get some rest, spend a day at the bathhouse and then laze around at home in a half open yukata and catch up on reading, write a letter, go see Gintoki. They haven't seen each other properly in a month, not since the explosion at the docks and the reports about the freakish swords growing out of people's arms. Hell, they haven't even spoken face to face since the incident. The Shinsengumi was more occupied with the rise in Joui activity near the ports, and the reports of the tsujigiri hunting people for sport. 

The explosion has Yorozuya's smell all over it, and it has Hijikata working around the clock, sometimes staying up nights to file up arrest reports, damage reports, casualty reports. Yamazaki's report on Yorozuya and the incident hasn't yielded anything substantial, only a composition style report of one page (he has some balls) in sloppy handwriting and anpan grease stains on the corners. Hijikata had immediately burnt it and set out to beat some sense into Yamazaki before turning back to the stack of reports on his desk. When the workload finally lightens up, he's dealing with Matsudaira hovering over him to tighten security. He takes his normal patrol routes, as many as he usually does, and pays attention in Kabukicho. It's quiet as usual, and Yorozuya is unoccupied (not that he's keeping track).

The last patrol of the day brings Hijikata to the banks of the river in Kabukicho. The sun is setting and taking the worst of the heat with it, and he takes a moment to look over the river towards the glittering peak of Edo. His watch strikes 8 and he sighs; off duty at last.

He turns around to go home, maybe drop off some reports with Yamazaki before turning in; the weariness he's been holding at bay for a couple days finally settles into his bones. The past few days have been weights strapped to his ankles. He stops on the bridge to light a cigarette and closes his eyes.

"Officer!"

Stifling a sigh, he opens his eyes and turns around to face a civilian.

"What is it?" He asks.

"There's a drunk underneath the second bridge causing a ruckus," the man says, and Hijikata tells him to lead the way, loosening his sword from the scabbard. The citizen stands back at the slither of metal. 

Of course it's Gintoki. Of course they would meet like this for the first time in weeks in strangling heat. The vein in Hijikata's forehead starts up, and he can feel his blood pressure rising. He nearly stomps over to where Gintoki stands among a couple scattered, groaning ronin, his bokken drawn. His frustration and longing comes roaring up in one tidal wave, and he can't help his brows furrowing. 

He hasn't seen him for a while. Hijikata hasn't gotten the chance to sit down and talk to him, much less touch him. He hasn't been around the cafe or the pachinko parlor that he hangs around, and a strange ache that had numbed starts up again; he's missed Gintoki. In his mind, going to Kabukicho is synonymous with seeing Gintoki.

As he draws near, he sees the bandages around most of his body, peeking out from the half open collar of his shirt, his arm, even creeping up to his neck. He has a flush high up on his cheeks, and he sways where he stands. He's drunk. Out-of-his-mind-drunk. He looks like shit, his mind adds helpfully. 

"Oy." Hijikata calls. "Yorozuya."

Gintoki turns, hiccuping. "You want some too?" God, he can't even recognize him. 

He steps close enough to see the flush of drink on his cheeks. "You don't look like you should be drinking and fighting. Go home."

Gintoki raises his wooden sword in a sloppy starting position, eyes unfocused. "Make me."

Hijikata almost bites his cigarette in half. "Listen to me, you perm head-"

Gintoki moves faster than he should be able to, swinging his sword overhead and bringing it down. Hijikata raises his scabbard and blocks it, teeth gritted. If it weren't for his instincts, he would have several broken bones along his left side.

"You idiot!" He snarls, parrying another blow. "If you don't stop I'll have to arrest you!"

The words make Gintoki falter, and Hijikata trips him with the flat of the scabbard. Gintoki lands heavily on his back, the air leaving his lungs in a gust; Hijikata kicks his wooden sword away and presses the tip of his boot onto his wrist.

"Listen, you perm head. You should be home right now. You're a wreck." 

"You have to work on your flirting, Toshirou-kun," Gintoki gives him his best shit eating grin. "You can if you wanna."

"What are you talking about?"

"Arrest me." Gintoki even waggles his eyebrows. "I kinda like handcuffs in bed-"

Unbidden, Hijikata feels his ears heat. Nearly snarling, he steps away from Gintoki and turns his back to him. "Go home." He says shortly, unwillingly. He wants Gintoki to stay. He wants him - but Yamazaki had said he'd taken a beating, and he's clearly out of his head with drink right now. Idiot. Idiot. No sense of self-preservation, he scowls to himself. First, running into that pier and facing off against monsters and aliens? Running away from Tae, who would probably do more damage to him after the fact? Then all this nonsense about fighting ronin in the streets?

He only feels a little bad for tripping an injured man. 

He hears unsteady footsteps on the loose stones of the bank and suddenly Gintoki is behind him, chin nearly hooked over his shoulder, his hands wandering around Hijikata's waist, his stomach. His skin thrills at the touch and he wants to press closer, but -

"Weren't you gonna arrest me, officer?" His voice is low and intimate, like he's talking to a lover. 

Hijikata shoves him away. "Go home." _Not like this._

"Didn't you miss me?" he murmurs, reaching forward and swaying into him again, and Hijikata's resolve wavers as Gintoki tucks his nose into his neck. "Hm? Toshirou-kun." His tongue flickers out and touches a vein in his neck, and Hijikata's eyes close. 

"Don't." Hijikata's voice is a whisper, and he clears his throat, steps away. "Do you want a taxi?"

Gintoki backs away and gives him a long, hard look that he can't quite read. "Nah. I'll walk."

"You can barely stay standing." Hijikata says dryly, and Gintoki hiccups, slightly cross eyed. 

"Right," he scoffs, and turns around. "See you around, officer." 

Hijikata watches Gintoki take a step forward, and immediately pitch over and land face-down in the shallows of the river. 

"Oy!" Hijikata yells, stomping over and dragging him out, coughing. "You're such an idiot, Odd-Jobs." He slides an arm around his waist and pulls his arm over his shoulders with an exasperated sigh, ignoring the tickle of his wet hair sliding along his neck. 

Gintoki coughs, spits out some river water. "Hijikata-kun," he draws out the last word, his head lolling back. "I don't wanna go back, I don't wanna-"

"Shh." Hijikata walks them up the steps and onto the street, where he waves down a taxi with his free hand. "Come on. Work with me, Yorozuya, you're heavier than you think." He shoves and pulls and carries Gintoki inside the taxi and sits down with a huff next to him, giving the wary driver directions for Koudoukan. 

"Mmm," Gintoki mumbles, his head tipping onto his shoulder. "Hijikata..."

"Hush." Hijikata murmurs, lighting a cigarette. He watches the lights of Kabukicho roll across Gintoki's face. He seems like he's slipping in and out of sleep, his brow furrowing occasionally and mumbling. Hijikata bites his lip, brings his hand up to stroke gently over Gintoki's cheek. His eyelids flutter open, and he reaches up to grip Hijikata's hand in his own. 

"I missed you," Gintoki slurs, turning his head into his neck. His hair falls over his eyes. 

"Hush now." Hijikata says. _I missed you too_ , he adds in his head. He looks out the window, past Gintoki's glazed, half-lidded eyes. 

"I wanna - wanted to see you before this mess," he falters, and Hijikata notices he's gone to sleep. He looks at him for a moment; maps the planes of his face and the arch of his brows, the slope of his nose and his pale lashes. The rest of the drive is in silence, and he prods Gintoki awake when they arrive at Koudoukan. The Shimuras are awake, and even China is there with her huge dog, looking tired and exasperated as Hijikata half drags, half carries their boss to the front steps. 

Shinpachi helps him bring Gintoki to his room, where Hijikata catches the scent of sweat and fever. 

"Has he been sick?" He asks, going for nonchalant. 

"A bit of a fever, yes." Shinpachi helps him lower Gintoki into the futon. His head lolls back on the pillow and he groans. 

"Getting paid overtime for this?" Hijikata asks. 

Shinpachi smiles wryly. "Getting paid in general would be nice." But his voice is soft, and when he looks at Gintoki it is with worry and fondness in his eyes. 

Hijikata steps out of the room after that, waving off their offers and invitations to stay for tea and snacks, to which Hijikata replies that he has work (true), that it is much too late (also true), and he doesn't want to see the perm head for a while after this mess (false). He goes out and sees that the taxi has left, and starts the walk back to headquarters with an odd sense of longing in his gut.

Night has fallen properly now, and the heat is a fading memory. 

** 

Maybe it's the heat or his exhaustion, but Hijikata is having much more vivid dreams than usual. That night he gets to headquarters and collapses onto his futon in his hastily tied yukata, and immediately falls back to his brother's home. Of course, Tamegorou had always said it was his home too, but after the bandits, after his eyes, he couldn't think of it like that anymore. He dreams about one afternoon where he had knelt in front of Tamegorou in the main room, the smell of new tatami rising sharp and fresh from beneath him. His brother had new bandages around his head. He never allowed Toshirou to change them. He touched his cheeks, his thumbs sweeping out from under his eyes, and went around to cradle the back of his head. Tamegorou leans forwards and presses a kiss to his forehead, his lips curved up in a smile. When he pulls back, the bandages are gone and his eyes, a pale, clear brown, stare back at him, so full of love and adoration that something curls in Toshirou's stomach. 

He wakes up with a sour taste in his mouth, his yukata half undone. He's panting. He rolls onto his stomach, closing his eyes and putting his head down onto his forearm in an effort to chase the dream away. But it lingers like an aftertaste, like a bruise, and he walks around the entire day with the dream still hanging around his head like a miasma. 

(Tamegorou's warm, calloused hand around his own, dragonflies and cicadas crying throatily from the bush. Blood on the tatami, the small tanto's worn, sweat-stained grip in his hands. _Blue eyes from his mother, what a thorn in our side -_ )

"Oy." A familiar voice says, and he turns, his heart suddenly in his throat. Gintoki stands before him on the sunlit street, heat rising up from the ground to meet him and shimmer and curl around his calves like a cat. 

"You must have one hell of a hangover." Hijikata replies smoothly, a cigarette halfway to his mouth. 

"And you must have something big on your mind. Not one comment when you passed me" There's a flash of something across Gintoki's face, something like longing. 

That throws him for a loop. Gintoki isn't this quick to jump to his perceptive side. "Just work." he fumbles, but Gintoki's eyes narrow. 

"Of course." He snarks, and the moment seems to have passed, a switch is flipped, and Gintoki inserts his pinky into his nose. "Always work with you."

"What, jealous that I have a job and you don't?" 

"I would never be proud of being a tax thief."

"As if you pay taxes."

"I use all that money for rent!"

"Right. I'm surprised Otose-san still hasn't kicked you out."

Gintoki's lips move in the beginnings of an argument, or a smile, or a snarl; instead, Shinpachi calls for him above the ruckus of the street around them. 

"Gin-san," Shinpachi says as he nears. "I can hear you bickering from back there."

"Oy, Patssuan, tell the policeman that we pay taxes. He doesn't believe me."

Shinpachi's mouth is set, wry. He shifts the grocery bags in his hand. "I don't think we should be lying to law enforcement, Gin-san."

Hijikata feels a smile flitting around the edges of his mouth. "Case closed."

Gintoki meets his eyes evenly and says, "You gonna arrest me, officer?" 

The vice-chief's eyebrows are in danger of disappearing into his hair. He opens his mouth to speak, but Gintoki is laughing and walking away.

"See you around, Mr policeman." He calls over his shoulder, and Shinpachi leaves after him with a farewell and a confused look. 

Torn between wanting to lash out and laugh, Hijikata settles for stalking off into the mid morning heat. 

**

Evening comes quietly and Hijikata finally allows himself to take a breath after the endlessness of the day. He pushes the arrest reports to the side, inks one final memo for Yamazaki to find in the morning, and shrugs out of his jacket with a sigh. Maybe he should go home today and get some proper rest instead of being woken up far too early by Sougo and his sadistic plots at headquarters. He changes into his yukata and straps his sword to his hip and walks out and towards the east, towards the park. 

The heat has finally broken with the arrival of night, and he breathes a relieved sigh. He slows as he walks out of the park, only a couple streets away from his apartment. He stops in front of a row of vending machines and is in the middle of paying for his mayoboros when he feels someone come up behind him. 

He turns, his hand halfway to his sword, and Gintoki rocks back a step with his hands held up. 

"Calm down, Hijikata-kun!" he drawls. "I'm not gonna mug you for your cigarettes!"

"Gintoki." Hijikata says. His weariness and longing and relief returns a hundred fold and he pulls Gintoki to him in a hug. After a second, he clutches back with a small chuckle, his hair tickling Hijikata's ear as he tucks his face into his neck. 

"I missed you." Gintoki says. 

"I can't believe you." Hijikata mutters, gingerly tightening his hold on Gintoki before letting go. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

Gintoki looks pointedly in the direction of Shinsengumi headquarters and then the vending machine. Hijikata rolls his eyes, a smile lingering around his mouth.

"Shouldn't you be at home?" He prods. 

Gintoki purses his lips. "You complaining?"

"Fair enough." Hijikata tears the foil away from the pack of cigarettes and shakes one out and tucks the rest into his yukata. 

"You busy?" Gintoki asks, half-leaning into Hijikata's warmth as they set off together. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hijikata side-eyes him, flicks the lighter and exhales a thin stream of smoke at him. 

"Oh come on, like you haven't been thinking about fucking me for weeks now," He ribs, and Hijikata chokes. 

"Say it a bit louder, would you?" He snaps, and Gintoki grins. 

"If you want. LIKE YOU -" 

Hijikata slams his mouth over Gintoki's, presses him back into a tree. He delights in the solid heat of him, the gentle yield of his lips. Gintoki is laughing into his mouth, and goddamn he's missed this - he's missed him. He clutches at him and fumbles to get his hands on the exposed skin of his neck, slipping his thumb under the collar of his yukata. There's a small gasp of - not entirely pleasure, but tinged with pain. Hijikata pulls away with a frown, leaving Gintoki with his head tilted back against the bark, a wry smile on his face. 

"Sorry." Hijikata murmurs, letting his hand hover over the bandages around his collarbones. Gintoki brushes it away absently. 

"Come on," He goads, swaying close and stroking the nape of his neck. "I won't break. Kiss me again."

He swallows. Quite unfair, he thinks, looking like that in half-light with the faint shadows of moths falling against his face as they flit around the streetlamps, smelling of wind and sweat and something sugary. 

He should say: you're too hurt, you should go back before Tae finds you and beats the hell out of you again. 

He should say: you should have gone to the hospital in the first place instead of letting them treat you. 

He should say: what happened at the dock? What did you fight? Why did you keep fighting even after you were torn to shreds?

Instead, he says: "Okay," and kisses him again, softer this time, pensive, drifting and torn. 

Gintoki stiffens against him and he makes an urgent noise; Hijikata pulls away and sees him wide-eyed, mouth parted, fear painted clearly on his face. "We gotta run," he gets out, and Hijikata turns and manages to get a glance of a figure silhouetted against the archway leading into the park some 200 meters away, a familiar naginata in their grip before Gintoki's hand tightens on his and they're running further into the trees, his low laughter falling on his ears like a breeze. Hijikata lets himself be pulled along until they reach a fence; Gintoki scales it nimbly, hopping down onto the other side with only a minimal grunt of pain. He motions impatiently at Hijikata, who sighs and sticks his cigarette firmly between his lips. He climbs up and over, swatting Gintoki when he notices him trying to peek up his yukata. 

"Pervert." 

"Mm, talk dirty to me Mr Policeman," Gintoki deadpans. "Come on, hurry, she's faster than you think. We gotta lose her."

"Gin-san!" A saccharine voice pierces the air, too close for comfort. There's the thump of the naginata's grip being smacked against the earth. "Where are you?"

Gintoki is as pale as a sheet, partly from fear and partly from strain. He yanks Hijikata towards him, towards the deep dark of the alleyways. They hop over stacks of newspapers put out for recycling, bags of trash neatly tied off with twine, set off yowling cats like alarms. All the while, Gintoki's breaths falling short and tinged with pain in front of him, but still a small smile at the corner of his mouth. He likes this, he realizes. Or at least, he's used to pulling some sort of joy from pain. Something that makes him grit his teeth and face forward with a feral grin, because why not live beautifully until the last moment? How morbid, he thinks, staring at the expanse of his back. Destructive, reckless, self-sacrificing to the point of self harm. 

The moonlight blinds him momentarily as they break out from the oppressive narrowness of the alleyway. He squints, before realizing that this is his street; his apartment is only a couple minutes from here. 

"Hang on," he calls, "I don't want her wrecking my house,"

"She's only after me, nicotine-bastard," Gintoki snarks, and he pulls Hijikata up the stairs to his apartment, pushes him out of the circle of light that the overhead light provides. Hijikata feels hands sliding over the fabric over his stomach, searching. He smacks Gintoki's hands away and takes out the keys, unlocking the door and letting him in. When they shut the door, it's like a vacuum; dead silent, only their harsh breathing. Their eyes adjust; they are wraiths, made of shadows and grey slats of light. 

"Jeez, you ever clean this place?" Gintoki breaks the silence, because of course he does. He sneezes too, to add a point. 

Hijikata scowls. "You're one to talk." He replies, checking the blinds to see that they're still down, and flicking on the lamp in the sitting room. Warm amber bathes the both of them, and Hijikata feels the day's weariness wash over him. He sits down on the sofa, letting his head fall back onto the headrest. 

"Long day?" Gintoki asks, moving about in the dark of the room. He stops near the shelves of books and the low desk where he has some reports piled up. There are a couple framed pictures on the windowsill, a slightly wilted plant, and an ashtray. 

"You could say that." He watches him wander around the room. It might be his imagination, but there is a shadow of a limp in his gait. His hand has crept around to cradle his ribs, and his breaths are coming a bit more shallowly. Hijikata closes his eyes after a while, listens to his footsteps pad into his kitchen and root around. He wants to call out to him, but he can't find the energy to do so. He sits there, content enough to smoke slowly and pensively, the way he hasn't done in a while. 

"You have sake!" Gintoki's voice comes after a moment. There's some shuffling and the click of porcelain, and he surfaces from the kitchen with a triumphant look on his face. "We're drinking tonight."

"Out of the question." Hijikata snaps. "You're hurt, perm-head."

"So?" Gintoki flops down on the ground and slides a dish over to him. "I've had worse."

Hijikata opens his mouth to question it; worse? Worse than being run through with a sword that grows out of people's bodies, built to take down battleships? Worse? But then again; what does he really know about Gintoki? He knows that he is friends with the leader of a terrorist faction, possibly even involved. He knows that Gintoki is selfless to a fault, loyal to his friends, and self-sacrificing to the point of harm. And Gintoki doesn't know that much about him either. Vice-chief of the Shinsengumi, protector of Edo, tax-thief. Nicotine and mayonnaise addict. Too close for comfort, too similar to him. Sometimes when the meet or fight together they mirror each other unconsciously, they know what the other is thinking. 

The way he carries himself around a fight; the empty, haunted look in his eyes, the tight grip on his wooden sword - they scare Hijikata sometimes. 

But sometimes, the way that they dance around each other - the way that they hold each other at such a distance - makes Hijikata wonder. Maybe they don't trust the other after all. Maybe they were destined to be stagnant and stay in this deadlock forever. 

Gintoki is splashing sake into his dish, and then his own. He knocks it back with a satisfied sigh, and looks at the bottle. 

"I'm glad to know that my tax money is going into buying such fine liquor for our policeman." He says slyly. 

"We've had this conversation before. Do you pay taxes?"

"That's a personal question."

"It's the law."

"Are you gonna arrest me for it?" Gintoki says, tongue-in-cheek. Hijikata scowls and rolls his eyes. He reaches for the sake dish nonetheless, to Gintoki's whooping. He drinks; it goes down smooth, sweetness lingering on his tongue, bitterness in the back of his mouth. 

They drink. He can see the moon rising higher and higher up in the sky past his shoulder, out the window. Gintoki's face gets more and more flushed, and he talks to fill the silence that Hijikata doesn't quite see a reason to fill. 

He's telling a garbled story about his teacher and a couple classmates that sound strangely familiar when he stops abruptly and drops his head down onto his forearms. 

"I'm so tired." He whispers, and Hijikata barely catches it. 

He sighs. "Come on. That's enough drinking, then."

"No. it's not..." he hiccups, rolls his head so that he's facing Hijikata. "Mr. Policeman...you're being too nice..."

"Maybe I'm being nice to get that story out of you." Hijikata smiles, a small, fluttering thing.

"Mmmm...did you find the swords?" Gintoki closes his eyes. 

"All of them."

"Good...nothing like that should ever..ever b'out in the open like that..."

"We destroyed them."

"Good, good." He pauses, sits up. "Did you see who was on the ships?"

"We got there too late. All we saw were a couple smoking wrecks and bodies in the water." The stench of smoke and oily green pools of amanto blood in the water. The body of some monstrous _thing_ in the wreckage of one of the ships. The stab of worry in his chest when he had seen, because something in his gut had told him that Gintoki would be here. 

Gintoki doesn't offer any more information. He drinks the rest of the sake, splashes the last of it into Hijikata's dish. There's silence for a while. 

"I was saving this." He says, sometime later. His tongue stings with the taste of the alcohol. He rolls the dish onto its side, watches it shudder and rattle and come to a stop. 

"Sake shouldn't be saved." Gintoki slurs, red high up on his cheekbones. "Sake should be - hic - shared." He winces at the hiccup and hunches over with a soft grunt. His face is creased with pain, his hand at his chest. 

"Oy. Yorozuya -"

"I'm 'Yorozuya' again?" Gintoki asks with a hint of bitterness. 

Hijikata shakes his head. He doesn't know how to reply. He slides off the sofa and goes over to where Gintoki is sitting, and bats his hand away to reach for his chest. 

"You'd better not bleed out on me when we're drinking." He mutters, fending off Gintoki's weak hands. 

"What kind of a drinking partner would I be?" Gintoki lets his head loll back and Hijikata folds open the collar of his yukata, unzips the black shirt to expose bandages. 

"Sexy." Gintoki deadpans, and Hijikata reaches up and flicks him on the forehead. "Ow! Bastard, is that how you treat your injured?"

"I don't drink with my injured." He says back. There's a hint of pink starting to show through the bandage, and he sighs. He stands up, feeling unsteady; he goes over to the small bookshelf and draws out a box of bandages and antiseptic sprays, and kneels in front of Gintoki again. "Tell me if it hurts." He says uselessly, and shucks Gintoki's yukata down around his waist, makes him shrug out of his shirt. 

"Oy, oy, Hijikata-kun, what's all this?" Gintoki argues weakly, watching Hijikata undo the bandages slowly as not to pluck at the skin. 

He winces. The wound is ugly as hell. It's clean - the Shimuras know what they're doing, and Gintoki's lucky he got off without an infection. It's seeping blood where the two lips of the wound meet, and Hijikata tsks and takes out gauze and antiseptic spray. They've stitched it straight and clean, which he appreciates. What scares him is that it runs down from his collarbone to about a hand's width above his waist, diagonally. It doesn't seem to be that deep though. Or else he would most certainly be dead. 

"What's that face?" Gintoki's voice is almost - tender. He even reaches down to touch Hijikata's cheek. 

"What face?" He asks, stoically not leaning into the warm palm. 

"Almost like you're worried for me or something." There's a small smirk at the corner of his mouth: not unkind, almost sad. 

This entire conversation feels stilted. Hijikata feels vaguely as if it is out of his control. So why not throw caution to the wind? Why not throw him for a loop? 

"Of course I am." He says back, and the truth hurts like a chemical burn exposed to open air. 

Gintoki looks at him with parted lips, stunned. Hijikata wants to kiss him. Instead, he ducks his head and winds new bandages around his torso, hands uncharacteristically gentle. He lets his hands linger on the last knot for unnecessarily long. 

"Hijikata."

He looks up and Gintoki leans down to kiss him. _About time._ There's the bitter sneak of alcohol on his tongue, but past that - warmth and longing. He presses into him, and Hijikata's hands come up to cradle his waist. He falls back against the edge of the couch, spreads his legs so that Gintoki can come right up against him. He reaches forwards and pulls him into his lap. It doesn't quite work out as it should; he's heavy, and he's hurt, and Hijikata's not exactly prepared to have someone his size on his thighs.

Gintoki laughs at his grunt of exertion but winds his arms around his neck and kisses him back gladly when he leans up; Hijikata lets his hands touch the shoulder blades underneath the bandages, even slides down over it to the small of his back to nestle his hand there. He pulls away when his fingers tighten on the shoulder of his yukata. 

"What?" Hijikata asks. 

"You're being weird." Gintoki says. He tilts his head. "You're never this gentle with me. Is it because I'm hurt?" 

He blinks. "What, you don't like it?"

He feels a little thrill of triumph when Gintoki blushes. "Of course not. I mean - it's not that." 

"Then what?"

"Just don't treat me like I'm going to break. I can take it."

Hijikata scowls, but it's too soft to be considered a sharp one. "We haven't even started yet and you're ordering me around." 

Gintoki grins. "That's me." 

They kiss again in the half light, and Hijikata hums into his mouth, pensive. Always in the half light - always feeling like they have a countdown ticking behind them until they have to part and act like they don't do this every week, act like they're not aching for the other when they bite and snarl at each other. That part's real, he thinks wryly. Gintoki really has a way of bringing out that side of him and getting under his skin while smiling and enjoying every minute of it. Sometimes he wishes that they wouldn't have to sneak around like this - but it's a disservice to Sougo to say that he doesn't know about them. 

"Stop thinking." Gintoki grumbles, and his hands sneak around to his back to undo the obi and fling it off somewhere in the dark. He slides his yukata open. Gintoki shifts on top of him and he groans, bucking up slightly. The sake from earlier has him warm all over, his skin tingling and sensitive. 

He hears him swear softly, feels his hands come up and push the heavy fabric of his yukata out of the way to get at bare skin. Gintoki is so warm and firm - he likes the weight of him sitting partially in his lap, and he pulls him closer and tighter to him. They push and pull at each other like magnets, like tides. Gintoki grinds down and into him with small noises of pleasure, head dropped down into the crook of his neck. It's hot. The sake, and the heat of the summer, and his warm, solid weight on top of him all drive him crazy. 

It's indulgent; warm, trembling, languid heat. Gintoki's eyelashes fluttering, the hollow of his throat jumping. 

"You're - you blush all the way down," Gintoki gasps, trailing a hand down his chest and touching hesitantly, wonderingly at his navel. 

"Hush," Hijikata says, putting his hands over Gintoki's hips and pushing up into his solidity. He's losing it. He feels delirious, drunk on pleasure and alcohol and his company, his scent is drowning him, his breath wet and searing on the side of his neck. He whispers, _oh god, Hijikata, I'm going to come -_

He closes his eyes against the cresting pleasure, lips parting in a soundless gasp. Gintoki twitches and moans on top of him, hips bucking helplessly into Hijikata. He strokes down the length of his back, his chest heaving. The orgasm's left him drained, sated, dizzy from pleasure. Gintoki slumps against him, breaths falling warm and wet on his neck. 

He jerks out of his post-orgasm stupor when he hears a gentle snore. He touches Gintoki's shoulder and shakes gently. 

"Come on. We can move to the futon." 

Gintoki rubs his nose against his shoulder, where his yukata is sliding off. His brow creases and his eyes stay closed. He lets out a sleepy, incoherent noise. Hijikata sighs mightily but affectionately, fitting his arms under his knees and hoisting him up in a ridiculously unbalanced bridal carry. He sets him down gently on the futon and covers him in the thin blanket he uses as a commodity during the summer months. After a thought, he goes to the bathroom and wets a washcloth, brings it over to the futon and wipes Gintoki's stomach carefully. He throws open the window and sighs in relief as cool night air seeps in. 

Hijikata draws the loose yukata tighter around himself. He looks at Gintoki - really looks at him. It's not often that he gets to do so, uninterrupted. Gintoki gets that little crease between his brows when he sleeps, and he looks much more serious. There's a shadow of pain in his expression, and Hijikata tsks and smooths his hair back. It's sweaty and damp from earlier, and he runs his fingers through the strands absently.

He shifts so that he is beside the window, and leans back against the wall. Gintoki's lips part and he curls a bit deeper into the blanket with a murmur. He isn't tired. He's content to watch over Gintoki like this, satisfaction and something like relief deep in his bones. He lights a cigarette and aims his first drag towards the window, breathing in the cool night air. There is a hint of damp earthiness on the wind, signalling rain later. A welcome change. 

Silver hair has blue undertones in some lighting, he observes. He wants to touch him again but he doesn't want to disturb him. It looks like the first restful sleep he's had in a couple days, without his kids or Tae hovering over him. Or maybe he's doing the same thing. He smiles wryly, exhales a low breath of smoke. He tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes to think. Now that the night has gotten calm again, the alcohol buzzing nice and slow at the back of his mind, his thoughts settle like motes of dust. Helplessly, his mind drifts back to work, unwilling to let him rest even when he is at home. Something keeps catching in his mind, the holes in the report Yamazaki gave him. The swords, the swords. He always worries if something escaped his attention. He wonders if he could ask Gintoki for the entire story, leading up to and the events during and after the ships falling from the sky. He had been more focused on the tsugiri in the streets. He thinks: it probably wasn't fair to ask Yamazaki to spy on him like that. If he trusted him, he could have gone up and asked him himself. But, he wonders, is the trust reciprocated? He deals in some shady business, and Hijikata wants nothing less than the success of the Shinsengumi - but now, with Gintoki in his room like this and presenting a vulnerable side to him, maybe he wants something else as well. Maybe Gintoki thinks that he would stop at nothing to further the Shinsengumi, and would refuse to tell him anything incriminating. Even if he did, Hijikata wonders if he'd be able to act on it and lock him away if he had done anything wrong - most likely, since it looked like he had killed his own fair share of amanto. 

"Is something wrong?" Gintoki rasps from the blanket. Hijikata startles a bit, eyes opening. 

"No."

"Why are you making that face, then?"

"What face?"

"Like you're constipated or something - ow!"

Hijikata scowls and grinds out his cigarette on the windowsill. 

"Sometimes I wonder if I should have just left you behind for Tae." Hijikata says. 

Gintoki makes an amused noise. "You would have gone down with me, idiot. She would have ripped you a new one for trying to help me escape, Bakufu lapdog or not." 

Hijikata frowns. "Hey." Throw caution to the wind. Step off that ledge. 

"Mm?" 

"What happened at the docks? The ships?" 

Gintoki's eyes are suddenly businesslike and clear; the deep brown has a bloody cast that reminds Hijikata that he is also dealing with a samurai in his own name, regardless of the flagrant lack of discipline or dignity. At first glance, anyway. 

"Shitstorm." Gintoki blinks and his eyes are back to the same blank, bored glaze. He shifts under the blanket. "It would have been easier if you were there to - ah, well." 

"Who else was there?"

Gintoki smiles. "Am I talking to Hijikata the policeman or Hijikata the concerned citizen who is also Gintoki's boyfriend?" 

He wants to ask; is that what you would call us? 

Instead he says, "They're one in the same." 

"Tsk, no separation from business and pleasure." Gintoki shakes his head mockingly. 

"You're one to talk." 

The fight is going out of Hijikata. What is going to change that hasn't already by whatever information Gintoki will be willing to give him? He's just admitted that there's a gap of trust - maybe not something he'd call trust, maybe a certain wariness that has to do with doing morally and lawfully ambiguous jobs for a living while dating the vice chief of the shogunate's police force. Hes already caught some of the amanto involved, cleaned up the mess with the swords, and added to his reports. The tsujigiri was quiet, if not dead - he had had a glowing sword attached to his arm, and there had been glowing swords on those ships - not too hard to put two and two together. 

"Hmm," Hijikata says. He shifts and nudges Gintoki in the side. "Move over. I'm tired."

Surprisingly, he moves without a word, even curving his body around so that Hijikata can cradle him better to his chest. 

"Giving up, vice chief?" Gintoki asks lightly. Of course he knew what was going on. 

"Not worth it. What's done is done, after all, and I'm beyond done with this investigation. Most of the loose ends are tied anyway. Thanks for your cooperation," he tacks on just to watch the slow smirk. 

"Its not that I don't trust you, you know." Gintoki blurts out.

"You read my mind." Hijikata murmurs. 

"It's - weird, you know. You're a cop and I -"

"Yeah, yeah. Questionable job, and all." Hijikata says. He shuts his eyes. He lets the silence stretch for a moment before adding, "But you know that I trust you, right? That you're ultimately doing the right thing. Morally, I mean. And I know that sometimes the law and morals don't really align, but I know that you know what you're doing. Somewhat."

He gets a flick on the forehead for that comment, and he hides a smile in his blanket. 

"I didn't know you knew all those big words." Gintoki says, his tone dead serious. Hijikata elbows him - gently, gently - and Gintoki gives a mock groan of pain. 

"Go to sleep, you idiot. I have work in the morning."

**

He's gone before first light, and Hijikata wakes up with his obi folded neatly next to his pillow. The sheets are cold to the touch on the side where Gintoki was lying, and he sighs and sits up, his yukata falling open with the motion. He gets dressed slowly, slowly, drawing out the cool grey of the morning for as long as he can before he emerges out into the street and the hectic clamor of the day. Already he can hear the sounds of the street rising up like smoke to greet him, and slats of sunlight fall in defiantly through the shuttered blinds to lie against his legs. 

He has a cigarette at the table, smoking steadily and slowly while thumbing through the morning paper. He lets his thoughts drift - they go to Gintoki, as he's pleased to note. Perhaps he can finally close and file away the Benizakura investigation for good. When he goes to slide open his front door and start the day, he's greeted by a naginata stabbed through the floorboards of the porch - a warning, he notes with a small, reluctant smile. 

Later that day he sits gladly underneath the awning of the dango stand and waits for his tea to cool. Gintoki sits down heavily next to him, sporting a reddened cheek and a look of defeat. 

"Tae?" Hijikata asks flatly. 

"Hmph," Gintoki replies, reaching over and grabbing a stick of dango off of Hijikata's plate. 

"Shouldn't you be at home then? Haven't learned your lesson?"

"You complaining?" Gintoki slants a small smile at him as he speaks through a mouthful of dango, and suddenly the world doesn't feel that stilted anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This took much too long, but I made it in time for New Years! Thank you to everyone for sticking with me and all the love. Grateful and in awe, looking forward to next year! Lots of good wishes for everyone, may your plans run smoothly and may you be content and at ease with where you are - and where you will be. Happy New Year!
> 
> @[drunkmaenad](https://drunkmaenad.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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